


Miracles

by Idreamofhazel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alive Mary Winchester, Alternate Season/Series 13, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Developing Relationship, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, F/M, Family Feels, Fluff and Angst, Innocent Jack Kline, Romantic Fluff, Season 13 Castiel/Dean Winchester Reunion, completion of Lucifer's arc, sam winchester/eileen leahy reunion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-18 04:26:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13674252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Idreamofhazel/pseuds/Idreamofhazel
Summary: Takes place after the events of the season 13 premiere. Sam and Dean have suffered devastating losses. The relief from their grief comes in the form of Jack bringing Castiel and Eileen back from the dead, giving Sam and Dean what they need most. But Mary is still missing. Sam and Eileen have to navigate their relationship while they work to get Mary back, and Sam feels the weight of all the threats coming at him and those he cares about. But this time, he'll make sure no one takes his family from him again.





	Miracles

Sam and Dean feel like ants scrambling around after a kid has cruelly flooded their home for amusement. Confused. Frantic. Shocked. They finally had people they loved, everyone together in mixed family--but now? Nothing. Their relationships and security feel like a sick joke, a damaging illusion. They are alone.

They had a taste of family, a big gulp of it that filled their hearts and satisfied the holes inside them. The loss of everyone, everyone, they knew and loved feels worse than all the other times either of them have died. This time, they’re squashed like a harmless beetle found in a kitchen, and they don’t know how they will recover. 

They have problems to deal with that no mourning person should. Jack is upstairs in the house, and he’s important. If someone doesn’t go to him, convince him to be good, his angelic heritage could win, and the problems they think are big now will only grow. So Sam leaves Dean, fallen to his knees in dirt next to Cas, and runs in the house to find Jack. It’s the only course of action that makes sense, the most immediate task he can complete, the first plug in the emptiness inside that has been created. Usefulness has always been a good distraction.

Sam finds Jack crouched in the corner of his nursery, far too old to use any of the supplies that Kelly bought. The only thing infantile about him is his nakedness. His eyes glow yellow, making them appear to be golden orbs floating in the darkness. There is enough moonlight that Sam can make out a sneer on his face, and it sends a cold shiver down his spine. He thinks of Jack’s father and wonders… 

Jack puts his hands on the ground, balancing himself as he scoots towards the window, using years’ worth of learned motor coordination, sidestepping deliberately. Sam thinks he’s scared, that he’s trying to distance himself from a perceived threat, so he presumes the most non-threatening stance he can.

“Jack?” Sam calls out with as much calm and care that he can muster, but he’s sure Jack can detect the hesitancy in his voice when he squints skeptically at Sam. “Jack, we--Dean and I-- we want you to come with us,” Sam doesn’t know if Jack knows their names, but he has to try something. He pushes out the next part of his sentence like an unwanted child, “We’ll take care of you.”

He feels like he can barely take care of himself, let alone a newborn creature. He thinks about his mom, trapped with Lucifer, and his brother out on the front lawn grieving, but shakes the images away. They will only be able to take care of a nephilim if they push past their own emotions. 

Jack stares at Sam silently, pondering his face. Sam is uncomfortable under his gaze, feeling like he has far too much emotional intelligence for his age, that he can read all the subtleties of Sam’s body language. He wishes Jack would speak and let him know what he’s thinking. But Jack remains silent, cocks his head inquisitively, then stands up. Sam tenses, his muscles ready to grab, run, jump--whatever he needs to do. He raises his hands slightly, palms showing, hoping Jack recognizes the gesture for peace. 

Jack moves, and Sam lunges forward, reaches out to grab Jack, but he stops when he realizes the nephilim only took a step forward.

“You--you are Sam,” the boy says. 

Sam straightens up and he replies with a breathy, “Yes.”

“Where is Castiel?” Jack is more sure of this question.

“He’s, uh, he’s outside but he’s--”

“Take me to him. I must see him.”

Sam hesitates, but he’s unsure of Jack’s abilities and what he will do if he’s upset. The boy is also stark naked, and they have no clothes for him. “Ok. He’s this way.” He can give him a pair of pants from the car, cinched at the waist with a belt, but for now, Jack doesn’t seem to notice his nakedness. 

Sam leads Jack out of the house, walking out the front door hesitantly. Dean hasn't moved. Castiel isn't moving either. Sam’s stomach plummets as he approaches the scene, and he’s terribly aware of the powerful being trailing behind him, wondering how he’s going to fit into this situation. Dean’s staring up at the night sky like he's pleading to anyone that might be listening. 

Sam approaches the scene carefully, scared to look at Castiel himself, to look Dean in the eyes and face the brokenness. He doesn't want to hear him have to say it. 

Castiel is laying on the ground between two ashen silhouettes of his wings. His eyes are closed; his chest has a bloody hole in the middle. Sam gets close enough that he can see the answer to his question before he has to ask it.

But Jack asks the question anyway. “Is he...dead?”

Dean clenches his fists and lets out a primal growl, cursing the sky. Sam flinches, his eyes latch onto Jack, goosebumps pop up over his skin as the cry echoes through the wilderness. Sam is unused to seeing his brother so unhinged, and Jack is looking at the scene with confusion and horror. 

Dean falls over Castiel, his head resting on his stomach, his fists taking up handfuls of the bloody clothing. The first set of tears fall from Sam’s eyes, and he doesn’t try to hide them. 

Sam has no clue what to say, but silence seems offensive. “Dean, I-” Sam chokes out, “I’m sorry.”

Dean sits up, looks out into the engulfing, black hole in front of them listlessly. The lake looks like it could swallow them whole. “Why did he have to run back in there?” He faces Castiel and roars, “Huh? Why didn’t you stick to the plan? Why, you stupid son of a bitch!” And then he turns his head and sees Jack. He stands, eyes glaring. “You! Why did you let this happen!”

Jack retreats. He appears much more afraid than Sam thought he would be. “I didn’t--”

Sam takes a couple steps forward, putting a hand out. “Dean, this isn’t Jack’s fault. Jack didn’t kill him.”

Dean stares Sam down, rage boiling, and Sam shrinks back. Dean takes out a gun and points it at Jack. Sam steps in front of Jack instinctively. 

“Move, Sam. Let’s fix this problem right here, right now, before it’s gets any bigger.” Dean is standing still, there’s no shaking in his arms, he doesn’t blink.

It takes everything Sam has to stay calm and talk Dean down. “No, Dean. We can’t do that. He didn’t do anything.”

“Oh yeah? Look at him! His eyes are glowing like a freaking knight of hell!”

Sam turns his head around and sees what Dean is talking about. Jack is poised to attack and his eyes are glowing like before. Sam gulps down his fear, and turns back to Dean. “You’re pointing a gun at him. Put the gun down. We don’t need to kill anyone. Kelly, Cas--they wouldn’t want this.”

Dean snarls, holds the gun up for another solid ten seconds, and when Sam doesn’t budge, he drops his arms. His face turns upward, a scoff crawling out of his throat. “Right. Sure. I see how it is.”

Sam glances back at Jack briefly and sees that he’s stood down, too. Sam lowers his own hands. “We need to know what we’re dealing with before we act.”

“We need to make the pyres,” Dean spits. He walks off, turning behind the house and disappearing in the darkness. 

Sam drops his shoulders and watches the space where Dean disappeared, not sure if building pyres is what they should be doing next. But Dean doesn’t come back around the house, and Sam is left with no choice but to explain to Jack what happened to Castiel, and to prepare him for his first memory of earth.

* * *

A week and a half later, they’re at home again, but it's empty and lonely and steadily grimy. Messes are piling up, food is rotting in the fridge. Jack doesn’t eat much. He doesn’t need to, and although he’s curious about trying foods, there isn’t much in the bunker to try. Dean’s been grieving alone as much as he can, less and less if Sam can help it. Sam offers him food, suggests things to do, but Dean rejects them. Sam focuses on Jack as much as he can while the nephilim tries to figure out life on earth. 

Sam’s been a wreck, too, mourning his own losses and missed chances drudged up by watching Dean grieve. He’s always thinking about Eileen. Sam misses her. He misses their skype calls, the way they would banter while throwing cases back and forth. He misses the way her smile lit up her face. He never did tell her how beautiful it was.

But someone has to keep things running, and Dean is taking the hit hard. Sam is still holding on to some sort of hope or will, and he’s at least been showering. So when Sam realizes they’re out of coffee and beer and anything else partially edible, he takes it upon himself to go to the store. He leaves Jack with his laptop and instructions to stay put.

When Sam returns with a few bags of groceries, he’s unsurprised that Dean didn’t notice his absence, but he had hoped that maybe a change in routine would awaken Dean to reality.

He tries another tactic. Like Dean always does when Sam is sick or down about something, Sam cooks for Dean. He isn’t very good at it--measurement terms and cooking temperatures are easy enough to understand, but there’s a finesse in cooking that Sam just doesn’t possess. He can turn on a skillet and press pre-made burger patties onto it. And he can chop onions and tomatoes and all the other condiments that Dean likes for his burgers. He even seasons the patties. There’s frozen french fries in the oven on a timer and beer sitting in the freezer to cool faster. 

Sam couldn’t find nice hamburger buns at the store, so Bunny Bread it is. He gets out the last three clean plates they have and prepares the burgers, places some fries on the side, and loads it all up with ketchup. He takes one plate and a cold beer to Dean. 

Sam knocks on the door first and hears a grunt. That’s a good sign. When he opens the door, Dean is sitting on the edge of his bed in the same pajamas he’s worn all week, cleaning a rifle. 

“I brought you something to eat.” Sam doesn’t ask if Dean wants it, putting it on Dean’s dresser.

Dean looks up and scrutinizes it. “Did you buy that from McDonald’s?”

Sam laughs even though the sound seems inappropriate after the fact. “No, I made it.”

Dean grunts again and nods, then returns to his gun. 

“It’s, uh, good to see you up and moving.”

Dean doesn’t respond. Sam stands there, debating whether to push or retreat. But the stench is too much to ignore and the dark circles under Dean’s eyes are alarming. 

“A shower would be good for you, dude. And food.”

“I’ll get to it.” The answer comes out gruff and not at all convincing, but Sam will take what he can get. 

Sam returns to the kitchen to eat his own burger, offering one to Jack who eats it with enthusiasm. 

“These are really good,” he mumbles through a full mouth.

Sam smirks, knowing the burgers are subpar. “Dean can make them much better than I can. He’ll have to make us some sometime soon.”

“Dean is a good cook?” Jack swirls a french fry in ketchup and pops it in his mouth. His face scrunches at the vinegar taste of the condiment.

“He is, yeah. He can make a mean burger when he’s in the right mood.”

Jack becomes somber, placing his hands in his lap. “Will he be in a better mood soon?”

“I don’t know, we’ve lost a lot of people who are close to us lately. It’s hard for him to be happy right now.”

Jack nods and studies Sam with the same intelligence he did on the night he was born. “Did you lose someone close to you, too? Like Castiel?”

Sam put his own food down, staring at his plate a moment before looking up at Jack. “Yeah, uh, I did. Her name was Eileen.”

“Eileen.” Jack whispers it like he’s trying to picture what she would look like. “That’s a nice name.”

Sam smiles down at the table. “She was a nice woman.”

“That thing eats?” 

Sam and Jack’s faces pop up and turn towards the sound of Dean walking into the kitchen and dumping his plate into the sink. His hair is damp and his clothes are changed. 

“It’s Jack, and yes, he eats,” Sam says.

Jack nods enthusiastically. “I like food a lot. But I don’t really need to eat it. Sam says I don’t feel hunger like you guys.”

Dean stares, half angry, half amused, and like he might explode if Jack says anything else. 

“I’ve been showing him around, teaching him, seeing what he’s like,” Sam says. 

“Yeah, and what did you find out?” 

Sam speaks slowly. “He’s a good kid, powerful, but he wants to learn to control his powers.”

Dean nods once, a slow up and down that’s more of a scoff. “The spawn of Satan, a good kid.”

“I’m not a monster,” Jack says. His eyes are wide; he’s seated. There’s nothing threatening in his stance, but Dean doesn’t read his body language this way. “Sam says that I can choose who I’m going to be, and I’m choosing to be like you guys.”

“Well that’s where Sam’s wrong,” Dean says, turning towards Jack and stepping forward. “You are a monster. You’re not human. You’re the son of Satan and if it weren’t for you, none of this would’ve happened. I don’t know why you’re letting him in our home!” Dean points this last part at Sam. 

“Dean, that’s not fair. Jack didn’t kill Cas,” Sam says. 

“He may as well have! He tricked him into believing there was some paradise and because of that, Cas went and got himself killed by Lucifer!”

“I love Castiel. I would never do anything to hurt him.” Jack is indignant, and Sam can feel the air in the room thicken. 

“No you don’t! You never even knew him!” Dean shouts.

Jack stands. Sam copies him, ready to jump between them. 

“I did know him,” Jack says. His voice is low but firm, and Sam thinks he might cry. “He made a promise to me that he would protect me. He’s my real father, not Lucifer. Castiel means everything to me.”

“No! You don’t get to talk about him like that!” Dean moves forward aggressively, and Jack tenses. There aren’t any weapons pulled or glowing eyes from Jack, but Sam leaps in the middle of them, sticking his hands out. 

“Dean, stop! This isn’t helping anything.”

Dean’s chest is heaving, he looks like he wants to smack both Sam and Jack. He glares at Sam with betrayal, but instead of lashing out again, he backs off and stomps out of the room without a word.

Sam lowers his arms and runs a hand over his mouth. 

“Why does Dean hate me?” Jack says, defeated. 

Sam sighs and turns around to speak to Jack. “He doesn’t hate you, he’s just--”

“Grieving.” Jack uses the word Sam’s taught him this past week. 

“Yes, grieving.”

“I want Dean to think I’m good, and you, too. I want both of you to know I’m good, and to help you.”

Sam smiles. Jack’s bright eyes and earnest voice remind him of himself ten years ago, when all he wanted to do was make his family believe he was good. Sam knows that he can help Jack for the same reason Dean helped him all those years ago. Good or evil--it’s a choice, and he’s going to make sure Jack makes the right one. 

“You want to make me happy, you can start by learning how to wash dishes,” Sam teases, lightening the mood. Without a protest, Jack gets started on cleaning right away.

* * *

The next day, Sam and Jack are in the library. Sam is teaching him about spirits, and Dean is walking from his room to the kitchen to see if there’s any leftover food. He’s ignoring Sam and Jack, but the atmosphere of the bunker has calmed. Sam made sure to keep Jack away from Dean after dinner, giving him books to study alone in his room. 

When they all hear the bunker door start to open, Dean runs back into the library, looking at Sam with concern. They aren’t expecting anyone. 

Sam and Jack stand up, but Sam motions for Jack to stay put as he pulls a gun out from behind his shirt. Dean pulls out his pistol as well, and he and Sam walk silently into the War Room. They’re holding their guns towards the top of the staircase as the intruder takes thudding steps down the staircase and comes into sight.

It’s Castiel. The trench coat, the blue tie, the messy hair. Everything familiar to them.

Sam and Dean lower their arms slowly. 

“Castiel!” Jack says from behind them. 

Castiel reaches the bottom of the stairs and smiles at them, elation mixed with sadness in his eyes. “Yes, it’s me.”

Dean and Castiel’s eyes meet. Castiel is close to tears; his eyes are red and Dean can see water brimming at the edges.

“How are you here?” Dean says, his voice shaking. 

“I don’t know, one moment I was in The Empty, the next I was lying on the ground by the house, by the lake.”

Dean can’t wait any longer--he lunges forward and Castiel meets him in the middle, the two of them embracing hard against each other, their hands clutching each other’s shirts. They don’t let go. Sam watches as Dean relishes Castiel in his arms, solid and alive, returned to him safely, no remnant of his wounds visible. They pull apart a little, leaving barely two inches of space between them, and Dean’s forehead falls against Castiel’s.

“I thought you were gone forever. We burned your body.” Dean’s voice is breathy, his eyes are closed. 

“Me too. But I’m back. For good.”

Dean lifts his head, eyes opening at the finality in Castiel’s tone. Their eyes meet, really take in the presence of the other person, before their lips fall together, giving each other a soft, slow kiss. Dean’s fist close tighter on Castiel’s forearms, and Castiel pulls Dean a little closer. The exchange is brief, and they step apart. Dean wipes the beginning of tears from his eyes and lets Castiel greet the other two people in the room. 

“Sam.” Castiel walks over, embracing Sam as well.

“Hey, Cas, it’s great to have you back,” Sam says, surprise in his voice, patting Castiel’s back before pulling away. 

“It’s good to be back. And this must be Jack.” The kid’s name weighs on Castiel’s mouth. They make eye contact, and Jack’s face lights up. 

“It feels like I’ve been waiting so long to meet you.”

Castiel embraces Jack like a father to a son. He speaks into his shoulder, his voice muffled, but audible to everyone around. “It’s so good to finally meet you, Jack.” Castiel steps back, admiring Jack. “Now I can keep my promise to your mother.”

“Sam has been helping me be good.”

“I’ve been trying. Jack is powerful, but he has a good heart,” Sam says.

“Did you do this? Bring Castiel back?” Dean steps into the conversation, looking at Jack with no malice for the first time. He’s almost desperate, sadness is lingering in his eyes.

“Yes. I think so. I tried contacting him. I wanted you and Sam to see I could do something good.”

Dean steps toward Jack and for a second, Sam tenses up. But all Dean does is place a hand on Jack’s shoulder and thanks him. “You did good, kid, real good.” 

Jack smiles at Dean, and, finally, something feels like it's working out. 

Sam falls into the background of the scene, and a twinge of disappointment flickers in the back of his mind as he watches Castiel, Dean, and Jack. If Dean can get Castiel back, why can’t he have Eileen?

Dean and Castiel walk out of the room, Dean saying something about food and the messiness of their room. Jack lingers with Sam in the war room, waiting. Sam can feel the weight of his stare on him. Jack is always studying him. 

“You’re still sad,” he says, and Sam sighs, not wanting to give Jack the impression he’s unsatisfied or ungrateful. The kid really did do a good job.

“I’m happy for Dean, and that we have Castiel back.”

“But you’re still missing Eileen.”

“Yeah.” That’s all Sam says, all he can muster in the moment without risking getting angry or upset. He has years of pent up frustration inside, always feeling left out of the really good stuff. But it’s not Dean, Castiel, and Jack’s fault-- they don’t deserve his anger. 

Jack gives Sam a small smile, and there’s a twinkle in his eyes that makes Sam nervous. “I wouldn’t worry, I’m sure something good will happen for you, too.” 

Sam doesn’t know what to say that. Jack walks out of the room, leaving Sam confused and frustrated, fighting back any wild ideas about Jack’s cryptic message. He has hope for mom, has it for Jack, he maybe even had it for Castiel, but for anything else… he put away that fight a long time ago.

* * *

The next day, after everyone’s had a long night’s sleep, Sam and Dean work on the first part of getting their mom back. With Castiel back, they might just have a chance of opening the rift and saving her. Sam doesn’t think Dean will let Castiel leave his side for anything anytime soon, and Sam hasn’t tested Jack’s abilities in opening any kinds of portals yet. It’s a conversation he’ll have with him soon, after he gets leads on any spells he can use or magical items that might help them. So for now, they begin with research and brainstorming in the library. 

The four of them are sitting at the war room table, Sam and Jack across from Dean and Castiel. Dean whispers something to Castiel, who gives him a stern but loving look, to which Dean replies by scooting in as close as he can with the armrests of the chairs in his way. His position looks uncomfortable to Sam, but Dean doesn’t seem to care. 

Time goes by, and Sam sighs, rubbing his forehead, rereading words on the page as he tries not to notice the loving pair in front of him. Castiel and Jack begin discussing Jack’s powers. Jack’s eyes widen when Castiel explains angels, archangels, and heaven, giving him more information than Sam or Dean ever could. Dean’s listening intently, too, but the information is hurting Sam’s head. He focuses back on his page, trying to find the spot he was on, but he honestly can’t remember what he was reading about. He rubs his temple and has half a mind to tell everyone to be quiet and focus on finding information about opening a portal to another universe because he’s the only one researching, and it’s really, really important that they get their mom back as soon as possible. And he can’t be expected to do all the research and train Jack and think of a plan while everyone is having their happy reunion, not that they shouldn’t have a happy reunion, but maybe they could do it after Mom is back and everyone has an actual second to breathe. 

They hear loud knocks against the bunker door, and all four heads turn towards the sound, mouths promptly shutting. Sam and Dean stand, and Dean heads towards the stairs, making his way up. Sam places himself at the bottom of the staircase, gun drawn. Castiel and Jack are standing by their seats, Castiel with his hand out toward Jack to stand down. 

Dean opens the door. Sam can’t see who is standing outside of it, but he sees Dean lower his gun. Sam relaxes his stance, too. 

The visitor says, “Hi, Dean.” 

The voice freezes Sam, drops his stomach right down to his feet. 

“Eileen?” Dean asks. 

“It’s a long story,” she says. 

Sam can see the signing she’s doing in his head. He moves to the side a step, trying to get a better angle to see see her. It’s not until Dean moves to the side and lets her through the door that he begins to see her—feet then knees then legs then her whole body, and her whole, beautiful face as she comes down the staircase. There’s not a scratch on it, no signs of the condition she had been in the last time he saw her. She’s clean, her hair is hanging softly over her shoulders, and her eyes are bright and alive.

Sam has no idea what to say. 

Eileen reaches the bottom of the stairs--he’s sure it really is her--and she looks at him like she knows this is weird, but she doesn’t care. The only signal he gets that’s she’s choked up about this too is that she signs hello. She can’t speak at all.

He signs hi back, and they burst into a small fit of laughs and smiles before moving toward each other at the same time. Sam throws his arms around her, and she sinks into his chest with his chin right at the top of her head. He squeezes his eyes shut, wanting only to feel this moment, re-memorize everything about her and how she feels against him. He opens his arms again only when she moves, afraid she’ll be gone again.

“How are you here?” he says, signing along with the words. His lips are trembling and he wants to make sure she can understand him. 

“I don’t really know,” she says. “I woke up in a graveyard, no phone, no money. I had to hitch rides to get here.”

Sam’s eyes go wide, and he puts a hand on her back, motioning for her to come sit down at the table. She must be exhausted. 

She sits down, and Sam follows, ignoring the movement of everyone else in the room. 

“What’s the last thing you remember?” he asks her. 

“It’s all fuzzy,” she says, “I was being chased, everything went black and then I…” she pauses, finding her words, “I was somewhere really happy. But then I woke up in a graveyard. I have no idea how I got back here. I was dead, I shouldn’t be here.”

Sam takes her hand that’s lying on the table. “I think I might know how.” He looks at Jack, who’s now sitting at the table with everyone else, “Jack, did you do this?”

Jack nods. “I did. When I woke Castiel, I also spoke to Eileen. You missed her like Dean missed Castiel. I wanted to make you happy, too.”

Sam blinks back tears, wondering if Eileen caught all of that.

“Who is Jack?” she asks. 

“I’m a nephilim,” he says. 

She looks at Sam confused, and he signs for her, “Son of an angel and a human, Lucifer’s son to be exact. But he’s not dangerous. He’s good.”

Her eyes go wide, and she looks back at Jack. 

“I know, it’s crazy,” Dean says, “but crazy is our normal.”

Eileen laughs. “This is true.” 

“Is there anyone else we should know about that you’re planning on bringing back?” Castiel says. 

“No, that’s it. I don’t want to upset the balance,” Jack says. 

“That’s probably a good idea,” Dean says, “and so is a break. We’ve been at this for hours and I’m starving and I’m sure you are, too, Eileen.”

“Extremely,” Eileen says. 

“I’ll show you to a room,” Sam says, and she follows him out of the library. They’re alone for the first time in months, and he still has no idea of what to say to her. 

The whole exchange is awkward, and so is dinner, and the rest of the evening. There’s long patches of silence, nervous laughter around not knowing what to say, but slowly, Eileen settles in, and Sam settles around Eileen. Parts of their familiar rhythm begin to return, and the reality hits him like a slow crescendo. 

When they finally say goodnight later, Sam doesn’t want to let Eileen out of his sight—what if he wakes up in the morning and it was all an illusion? Or a dream? When they tell each other goodnight, he holds onto the embrace as long as he can. When she walks into her room and shuts the door, his heart drops, but it’s also soaring. His body feels a hundred times lighter, his feet might be six inches off the floor. He never thought this would happen to him.

* * *

The next morning, Sam wakes up early to fix breakfast for Eileen, but not before peeping into her room to check on her. She’s still there--not an illusion--and she’s fast asleep. He shuts the door quietly and goes to the kitchen. She likes waffles, if he remembers correctly. They have a waffle iron, too. They’ve never used it before, but he can figure it out. How hard is it to mix batter and pour it into the griddle?

It’s more difficult than he anticipates. After he’s mixed the clumpy batter, dripped it all around the bowl, and blown flour all over the counter, he turns the iron on and waits for it to heat up. The first waffle he pours into the mould overflows onto the counter. He tries wiping up the spill with a napkin, but it smears the batter around. When the waffle is done, he scoops it out with a spatula, but parts of it stick to the griddle. He’s scraping out pieces of burnt waffle when he feels a hand on his arm. He turns toward the touch.

“Are you trying to burn down the bunker?” It’s Eileen, still in her pajamas, her hair uncombed and her skin pink with sleep.

It takes Sam a moment to gather his wits to respond. “No, I’ve never made waffles before.”

Eileen raises her eyebrows at Sam, that familiar snark in her eyes that always made his knees weak. “Let me help you.”

Sam throws his hands up in surrender and steps away from the counter. He’s ready to watch her take over the waffle-making, but instead she finds a whisk and grabs his hand to pull him back to the bowl.

She drops his hand all too soon and begins her lesson. “First, you should use a whisk to mix the batter to get the clumps out.” She signs as she talks using signs for baking that Sam never learned. She picks up the whisk and begins stirring. “Like this,” she says, “Now you try.”

Sam is at the mercy of her every whim. He takes the whisk somewhat awkwardly in his hand, still trying to look at her while he’s supposed to be watching the bowl. She’s acting like this is all normal, as if she hadn’t been dead a day or two before, while Sam’s playing catch-up, stuck in awe that she’s even in front of him. She’s still two-steps ahead like she always was, and now is. The present tense feels satisfying in his mind. 

“No, more like this.”

Before Sam can realize that he’s been stirring poorly and not watching his hands at all, Eileen puts her hand over his and directs his stirring. The hand-over-hand is supposed to help him learn by example, but the contact is distracting. He swallows heavily and lets her guide him without protest. 

They get the batter smooth despite Sam’s ineptitude, and then Eileen moves on to her next lesson. She opens the waffle iron and smirks before scraping out the rest of the burnt waffle bits. She fishes through the cabinets before finding what she needs--a spray can of oil Sam doesn’t remember buying. She sprays the oil on both sides of the waffle iron, then turns around. “Put oil on it after every waffle so they don’t stick.”

Eileen throws away Sam’s batter-soaked napkins next, and then grabs a couple clean ones and puts them underneath the griddle. She then takes the bowl closer to the waffle iron and pours a big spoonful into the griddle. When she presses the top down, some batter spills over but it lands on the napkins. Why didn’t he think of that himself?

Eileen lets him cook a few waffles himself, and eventually they’re side by side at the waffle iron, putting stacks of hot waffles on plates. They bump into each other repeatedly, an arm here or a hip there, but neither of them create any extra space between them. They move closer instead.

They are finishing up the last waffles when Dean pops in. “Morning, guys!”

Sam turns around and taps Eileen on the shoulder so she can look at Dean. 

“Those smell amazing. You make those for everyone?”

“I had to teach Sam a few tricks to get them right, but yes, we made some for everyone,” Eileen says. 

“Well, bring them in the library. Castiel and Jack have something. They stayed up all night researching.”

Dean disappears out of the kitchen, and Eileen gives Sam an inquisitive look. 

“I’ll explain in there,” he signs, “Let’s give them their food.”

Eileen and Sam take all four plates into the War Room in one trip, and Sam goes back to get butter and syrup. Everyone is enjoying their waffles, stuffing their faces and complimenting them, but Sam’s thoughts are on what’s next. He’s nervous about dragging Eileen into their plan to get their mom back. He’s sitting next to her at the War Room table with Jack on his other side, and Dean and Castiel across from him. Sam glances at Eileen every so often while they eat, gauging her reactions to the discussions, to Jack, to anything really--he knows what it’s like to be thrust into a new reality without any warning.

“So, there’s a spell we can use to help Jack open the rift?” Dean mumbles through a mouth full of food. 

Sam gives him a look, and Dean flashes one right back.

“Yes, but it’s slightly complicated,” Castiel answers. 

“How so?” Sam says. 

“Well, the ingredients will be easy enough to procure. A couple of them are rare, but it’s nothing Jack or I can’t find. The complicated part is in performing the spell and how it will use Jack’s powers.”

“I told Castiel it will be fine, I want to help. I can take it,” Jack says, eager, looking at Sam and Dean. 

“Jack…” Castiel warns. 

“What’s the problem?” Sam asks. 

“The spell takes a considerable amount of power to perform, which will likely leave Jack incapacitated for some time afterwards. And if we plan on immediately locating Lucifer and your mother--”

“Jack’s going to be out of commission.” Sam leans back in his chair, considering the possibility. 

“Yes.”

“Ok, so we figure out how we’re going to grab Lucifer before he can do anything,” Dean says, “Don’t we have some leftover gadgets from the Brits we can use?”

“Yeah, I still have that container we used once before,” Sam says, “But that still leaves Jack in potential danger. And we don’t know what else is waiting for us on the other side.”

“I can take it. I’m strong enough to handle this,” Jack says. 

Everyone looks at Jack, unsure of what to say. 

“Nephilim are very powerful, more powerful than angels and archangels, yes?” Eileen asks. 

“Yes,” Castiel says, “Jack contains a considerable amount of power, enough to make archangels like his father afraid of him.”

“Then there’s a good possibility that the spell will not leave him incapacitated. He will probably be reduced to the power of a regular angel.”

“She could be right,” Dean says. 

Sam catches Eileen’s eyes and smiles at her. He’s impressed.

“I don’t know, it’s risky,” Castiel says. 

“Come on, Cas,” Dean says, turning to Castiel, “This is Mom we’re talking about. We have to get her back. I can’t leave her in that world alone.”

Castiel is melting under Dean’s gaze, Sam can see it. Castiel knows the plan is risky, but he’s going to support Dean. Not doing anything would be worse, and Castiel knows this. 

“Ok,” he says with a sigh. “But we need a solid plan first.”

They spend another hour or so hashing out a plan of action. They’ve only seen this alternate universe briefly, and Jack and Eileen have never seen it, so knowing what to expect is difficult. They spend a lot of their planning time purposely creating scenarios where the plan goes badly to cover every option, every possibly fall-through. 

Sam continues to watch Eileen throughout the conversation. She doesn’t add much, but she’s following along, her eyes moving rapidly with the conversation. He’s ready to repeat any information she may have missed, but she never asks. When they finally decide to call it quits, Dean and Cas leave the room together, and Jack follows them, attached to Castiel as usual. 

Sam and Eileen are alone at the table. Eileen stares at whirring meters on the wall. Sam taps his fingers on the table, looking at her and then around the room, then at her one more time. He’s about to open his mouth when she turns toward him. Her eyes are full of sadness and worry, and it makes his heart fall right through his chest.

“Do I belong here?” she asks, her lips turned downward.

“Of course,” Sam says without a second thought. He sits straight up in his chair and looks her right in the eyes. “Why do you ask that?”

“I was dead, Sam,” she says.

Sam swallows those memories down. “I know, I saw you.”

There’s pain in Eileen’s eyes like the thought has just occurred to her that Sam would have gone to see her. “I’m sorry,” she says.

 

“No,” Sam shakes his head. “Why would you be sorry?”

“I should’ve been smarter. Gone to you sooner. I didn’t have to… you didn’t have to see me like that.” Her head hangs down as her lips tremble.

Sam wants to take his hands to her face and hold it up, take his thumb to her lips so they don’t shake any more. 

“I just think, it was my fault, for accidentally killing that man. I’m supposed to be dead, and now I’m not. And now there’s so much going on. I feel like I’ve landed in the middle of a busy highway with no roadmap,” she continues. 

“No,” Sam says again. He takes Eileen’s hands in his. It happens without much thought at all, and Eileen looks down at their hands together, adjusting them so they fit together better. “You belong here. If I’ve learned anything about being a Winchester, it’s that if you come back from the dead, there’s always a reason. Besides, none of what happened was your fault. None of it.” He gives her hands a squeeze.

“I’m just having a hard time keeping up. I hate asking for help.” She’s still sad, but the smile pulling at her lips lets Sam know she’s doing better. 

“I know, one of the first things you told me after nearly stabbing me is that you like working alone.”

Eileen laughs, and Sam feels his heart lift. Making her laugh is the best feeling in the world. 

Castiel, Dean, and Jack walk back into the room just then, and Sam and Eileen break apart. 

“What’s up?” Sam says. 

“These two are convinced they’re going hunting for spell ingredients on their own,” Dean huffs. 

“We are not alone,” Castiel says, “the two of us are, by definition, together. And we’ll be fine. I’ve explained to Dean that we will not be in danger while procuring the items.”

“I’ll decide if you’ll be in danger or not!” 

“Hey man, I’m sure they’ll be fine. Castiel does this all the time,” Sam says. 

“Stay out of this!”

“Dean.” Castiel lowers his voice and faces Dean. “There’s no need to yell at Sam. I know you’re worried-”

“You bet your ass I’m worried! I’ve only had you back for a couple days and you want to leave again? How am I not supposed to worry?”

Castiel takes Dean’s hands in his. “I understand your concern, but I promise I will come back without a scratch. I cannot take you with me anyway. We need to do this as quickly as possible, and we all know how you feel about being teleported.”

Dean’s shoulders fall, and he leans towards Castiel. “Yeah, you’re right,” he grumbles. 

Castiel pecks him quickly on the lips. “We’ll be back before you know it.”

“Without a scratch,” Dean says. 

“Without a scratch.”

Castiel steps back and grabs Jack hand, and then they’re gone, leaving Dean with slumped shoulders, and Sam with no idea of what to do until they return. 

Eileen walks over to Dean, puts her hand on his shoulder. “It will be ok. They are smart. They’ll come back.”

Dean sighs. “Yeah, I know. The idiots know what they’re doing.”

Eileen laughs and drops her hands from his shoulder.

“You guys hungry?” Dean asks. 

“Starving.”

Sam nods in agreement.

“You guys wanna make something? Get takeout?”

“You and me can make something,” Eileen says, “Sam is not the chef of the house.”

“Hey now,” Sam says, only pretending to be offended. 

“The lady’s right. You know, you should’ve seen these burgers he made me the other day, look like they came from a drive-thru-”

“Ok, I actually spent time on those, and, you know, we don’t need to discuss my burgers, just get in the kitchen and get us something to eat!” 

Dean and Eileen laugh as they exit the room, and Sam watches them go, shaking his head at the spot where they had been standing, wondering how he got so lucky.

* * *

Castiel and Jack are gone just shy of four days. During their absence, Sam bounces back and forth between worry-reading every book and website he can on nephilim and alternate universes, and making sure Eileen is comfortable and occupied. He wants to be a good host--keep her fed, her pillows fluffed, those sorts of things. He also notices her staring at the walls while he and Dean talk, or looking sad for no particular reason he can decipher. He wants to talk to her again, to reassure her, but how do they navigate big issues together? Will she come to him first? Will she be upset if he pushes her? They never had the chance to figure this part of their relationship out.

He gets the chance the third day Castiel and Jack are gone when Eileen leaves the room in the middle of a conversation between Sam and Dean. 

They both stop talking when she walks out. Dean urges Sam on with his facial expression, painfully aware of the awkwardness between them. Sam throws a hand up at him. 

“Dude, go talk to her,” Dean says. 

“She just needs some space.” Sam looks down at a book on the table and can’t see Dean roll his eyes.

“She’s gotta be freaking out. You need to go do your talking thing and calm her down.”

“I don’t want to push her.”

“What? Away? That’s not going to happen. You guys are--” Dean pauses. 

“We’re what?,” Sam pushes, “Friends? Acquaintances? Fellow hunters? Reality is, I don’t know what we are.”

“You’re a hell of a lot more than that,” Dean says, then seeing the expression on Sam’s face, “Oh come on. You’re not that blind. You and Eileen, you mean something to each other. There’s a connection. Like me and Cas.”

“Like you and Cas,” Sam deadpans. 

“Yeah. Like that.”

“And that was so easy to figure out.”

“Well no… it wasn’t. It was a lot of crap and fighting, both with each other and other people. But that’s the process for us.”

Sam looks away. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

“Just go talk to her, ok? You can’t leave her by herself.”

Sam sighs, knowing Dean is right, and hating it. But he gets up from the table anyway and swallows down any pride or nerves he has in one, big gulp before finding her door cracked open. He waits in the hall, sending her a text asking to come in. The reply comes swiftly. 

Eileen is sitting on her bed, doing nothing. She looks up at him momentarily. 

“Hey,” he says, awkwardly, unsure of himself.

“Hey,” she says back, looking away once she’s done signing. 

He sits down beside her on her bed, signing, “Are you ok?”

She gives him a half-smile with the corners of her lips trembling. The smile doesn’t affect the sadness her eyes. “It’s a lot to take in,” she signs. 

“Yeah,” Sam says, not knowing what else to say. He’s been concerned about this very thing, the way it happened to his mom, and the way she chose to deal with her feelings of being overwhelmed. “I’m here to help, and so is Dean. Whatever you need to do, if you need some space, or whatever, we can give it to you.”

Eileen sighs, and Sam braces for what he thinks is next. 

“I don’t want to leave. But I don’t know how to stay, where I fit. I’ve never even met your mother, I barely met Castiel and Jack. I’m so used to doing things by myself, I have my entire life. I don’t remember being part of a family.”

Sam is relieved that she doesn't want to leave, but his heart is aching for her. As much as he wants to help her, he doesn't know how best to. What if he tries and screws it up and sends her running away? 

“I...want to show you something,” he says. He has been planning this for the past couple of days, well, not exactly planning. More like developing a rough outline of an idea that may or may not be a good one. “I knew, I mean I figured you would be nervous about meeting my mom and being here with everyone,” he says to her confused look, “And I thought maybe...I could help you get to know them a little bit.”

“I don’t understand,” she signs. 

He holds out a hand. “Trust me?”

He gets the first genuine smile from Eileen today as she places her hand in his. “Ok.”

They stand together, and Sam leads her out of her room and into Dean’s room, which is vacant at the moment. Eileen is confused, and not any less so when Sam pulls a shoe box that looks like it’s about to fall apart at the corners out from under Dean’s bed. 

Sam takes the box and Eileen into his room and sits down on his bed with the box balancing on his thighs. Eileen sits down slowly beside him, getting an idea of what’s inside the box. 

Sam opens the box. Some dust flies out, coming off the pile of old photographs inside. Some seem more worn than others. There’s one on top of a woman Eileen can only assume to be Mary, and she’s hugging a young, blonde boy. Sam picks that one up first. 

“This is Mom and Dean,” he shows it to her, “Shortly before she died, I think. Dean looks about four in this picture.”

Eileen takes it in her hands. She’s never seen a picture of Mary before. “Your mom is beautiful.”

“Yeah, she is.”

“I only have one picture of my parents. Somehow, I have no idea how, it was still in the pocket of my jacket when I was brought back.” Eileen looks up at Sam. “Do you want to see it?”

“Yeah, of course,” Sam says. She’s never talked much about her family before. 

Eileen leaves the room and comes back with a single photograph in hand. She sits down and hands it to Sam. It’s about as worn as the ones in his box, but Eileen’s been careful not to get any scratches on the faces of her family. She’s sitting on her dad’s lap, he’s kissing her cheek, and her mom is holding onto her dad’s arm, leaning into him and looking down at Eileen. 

“They look so happy,” he says.

“That’s how I try to remember them.”

“I have a picture like that, too,” he says. 

He hands the photo back to Eileen, and rummages around the box for what he’s looking for. When he spots the distinct wallpaper of Bobby’s study, he pulls it out from the pile. He smiles sadly at the memory before handing it to Eileen.

“This is Bobby. He was a like a father to me and Dean. And this is Ellen and Jo, mother and daughter. We were about to fight Lucifer. Ellen and Jo died that day. They sacrificed themselves for us.”

Eileen’s finger slides gently over the faces of Ellen and Jo. “You’ve lost so much of your family.” 

“We have. But I try to remember the good times. Like…” Sam rummages through the box some more and pulls out another photograph, “This one. I sprayed Dean’s face with shaving cream and snapped this while he was still sleeping. He was so pissed when he woke up.”

That sets the both of them into a fit of giggles. Sam continues to pull out random photographs, some of him and Dean, others that are older and more precious to him because they show a happier time he can’t remember. Somehow, a large stretch of time later, they’re both on the ground, Sam leaning against his bed and Eileen on her knees, tucked beside Sam. Photographs are spread over the floor in a messy collage, and there’s a few empty beer bottles around that Sam got some amount of minutes ago. He can’t remember at his point, and he doesn’t really care. He’s feeling warm inside, he’s laughing and sharing stories with Eileen, and she’s leaning into him and touching him without any reservation. He’s buzzed enough that he could lean down and kiss her, on her forehead, lips, cheeks, whatever, and not care. 

He does just that when she looks up at him after he tells her a sad memory of a photograph of John and Mary. She’s sad for him, and he wants to reassure her. So he plants a kiss on her forehead and puts his arm around her the small of her back and pulls her in tighter than before. He doesn’t feel any change in her demeanor, she goes along with his gesture, falls right into it softly. He lifts his lips from her skin, and she tilts her head up, putting her lips directly across from his. 

A knock sounds at the door, and Sam eyes are torn away from her. 

Sam sighs and yells at the door. “What do you want?”

“Cas and Jack are back.”

“That was Dean, Castiel and Jack are back,” he tells Eileen. 

“We better go then,” she says.

“Yeah.” Sam is disappointed as he looks at the memories on the floor. 

Eileen puts her hand on his cheek and turns his gaze back to her. “We’ll pick this back up later,” she says before placing a kiss close to his lips and then getting up to leave. 

Sam doesn’t get up to follow her for about ten seconds after she’s gone. She almost kissed him.

* * *

An hour later they have a plan, but no consensus. Some of them will go searching for Lucifer and Mary, but somebody has to stay back and guard the device that will capture Lucifer. They don’t want it getting mixed up in the fight, and the element of surprise could give them the upper hand. The problem is that Eileen has volunteered for the job. 

“Castiel should be the one, or I will, or you Dean! We can’t leave her out there by herself!” Sam is almost yelling. 

“Why? Because she can’t take care of herself?” Dean says. “And we need Cas with us, to kill more angels.”

“Sam, I know this is hard to hear, but no matter where she’s at, there will be danger,” Castiel says. 

“Then she can stay here and, I don’t know, watch the rift.”

“No,” Eileen says. She’s talking and signing fast. “I have decided what I’m going to do. I am going to into this universe place, I am going to help. Sam, thank you for your concern, but you can’t make me sit this out. I am a part of this now.”

She’s not mad, but Sam feels terrible. He knows everyone is right. He knows that no matter what role she plays, there’s a chance she could get hurt. He knows that Eileen can take care of herself and that she needs this to help feel like she’s a part of the family, but he’s scared. 

He looks at her and sighs. “I know. I know, I’m sorry. I trust you.”

Eileen takes his hand in hers. “I will have Jack with me. We will be ok.”

“We will, Sam. I promise,” Jack says. 

Sam looks at Jack. He hasn’t had any time to work on his powers, but he knows Jack is capable. 

“Ok, ok,” he concedes. “It’s a good plan. But when are we doing this?”

They do it the next day. They’ve practiced the spells, they’ve run over their plan again and again, and they’ve gotten a night’s sleep. There’s no reason to wait.

They set everything up in the field at the back of the bunker. 

“Ok, we have the blue candles? And the red, purple, and black ones?” Sam asks. 

“Yes.”

“And the right incenses?”

“Yes.”

“And that sand from the sacred indonesian beach?”

“It’s sacred sand, specifically blessed with sage, from any beach, and yes. We have it. Sam, we have everything.” Castiel is holding back his exasperated tone as well as he can while Sam runs over the list of items and steps as many times as it takes to calm his nerves, which is about three too many for everyone else’s patience. 

Eileen comes up beside Sam and puts her hand on his arm, gently pushing him to turn towards her. “It’s going to be ok,” she signs.

He softens when his eyes meet hers, and he puts his hands on her arms. “You’re right. I’m worrying too much.”

“At least you keep us organized.”

Sam laughs quietly and kisses Eileen lightly on the forehead. 

“Alright, let’s get this show on the road!” he says, slapping his hands together and rubbing them. He seems over-enthusiastic to Sam. There’s so much that could go wrong. “Jack, how are you feeling?”

“I’m great,” Jack says, “I’m ready.”

“That’s what I like to hear!” Dean pats Jack on the back, earning a prideful smile from Jack, but an unnoticed look exchanged between Castiel and Sam.

Everyone has their angel blades and pistols, the Men of Letters device is sitting in the grass beside Eileen, and Dean is seating Jack at one of the tables. No matter how nervous Sam is about this plan, everyone is ready, and their mom can’t wait another second for help. 

They’ve rehearsed the plan a thousand times, and the operation of it begins smoothly. 

Sam sets the four blue candles on the table in front of Jack, starting with North and ending with East. He pulls out his lighter and ignites a flame on each on in the same order. Jack’s face is in a subtle state of awe and focus. Next Sam lights four incense sticks of myrrh, camphor, lotus, and jasmine. Each is placed by a candle. It doesn’t take long for the scents to saturate the air around them. Castiel hands Sam a goblet next and Sam pours the purified water into it almost to the brim. The last step of the spell is the blood, but Sam waits on the cutting. 

He needs to get the rift spell setup so that he and Jack can perform them at the same time. The process begins the same with lighting candles, this time three of black, red, and purple. He places and lights them in a circle before placing a small pot in the middle, slightly off center. The chicken feet and lit incense of sage, frankincense, and myrrh go inside the pot. Lastly he places Castiel’s bloody shirt next to the pot to represent the alternate universe. It’s not from the apocalypse world, but it reminds everyone of it. 

“Ok,” Sam says with a huff, stepping back from the table. “It’s ready.”

“This is going to work, right?” Dean asks. 

“I sure hope so.”

“I know it will,” Eileen signs. 

Sam meets her eyes, and the intensity of them hits him. She isn’t afraid. A whole moment passes in a split second. He doesn’t know if everything is going to work out, but Eileen has faith and it’s enough to carry him through any outcome of their improvised witchcraft. “Thank you,” he signs back. He then turns to Jack. “Ok, let’s start. Just like we rehearsed.”

Jack nods, and Sam steps back up to the table. Sam takes out his knife and makes a small cut in Jack’s palm to let a few drops of his blood fall into the goblet, then he does the same to himself. The blood should lead them to each of their parents. They stand next to each other, each of them performing the last part of their spells at the same time. Jack puts his middle and second finger together and swirls it around the water four times while chanting in enochian. Sam pours the sacred sand over Castiel’s shirt and recites the latin lines as the grains of sand fall over the table and run off the sides.

As their chants end, they take hold of each other’s hands, Jack’s right in Sam’s left, and Jack closes his eyes, focusing his energy on the spells. Nothing seems to be happening at first--there’s only the sound of a breeze, then Sam looks over at Jack and notices it--the yellow lines creeping down his arms, reaching out towards Sam. 

“I see something,” Jack whispers. 

A light begins to grow in front of Sam, radiating from the shirt and growing until Sam has to shut and cover his eyes with his free arm. 

“I see them--I see them both!” 

“Focus on them!” Castiel shouts from behind them. 

“Yes, yes they’re in a… they’re in a church!”

The light expands and explodes with a pop, causing Sam and Jack to stumble backwards and lose their hold on each other. Sam feels hands on his back and the light fade from behind his eyelids. He opens his eyes slowly, seeing a warmer glow than before. It’s coming from the rift.

“It worked,” he says under his breath. The hands on his back move to the hand dangling at his side. It’s Eileen squeezing his hand, holding him steady. 

“If we’re going to go in, now’s our chance,” Dean says. 

“RIght,” Sam says, “Everyone got their weapons?” 

Everyone nods, Eileen holds up the angel capturing device. 

“Alright, let’s go get mom.”

Sam leads the line, stepping into the rift first. There’s no sensation out of the ordinary until he opens his eyes on the other side and sees the gray wasteland. Church doors are directly in front of them, some ten yards away.

He turns around to check that everyone made it through and makes eye contact with Eileen. Dean walks up beside him. “How are you feeling, Jack?”

“Ok, I guess. A little...tired?”

He looks worse than he lets on, but neither Sam or Dean say anything. 

“Just hang in there, kid,” Dean says. “Ok, everyone, stay on your toes. We don’t know who or what’s on the other side of that door. Jack, you protect Eileen with your life, you understand?” 

“I understand,” he says.

“We’ll try to make this quick,” Sam says, looking at Eileen. She gives him a steady smile with only a hint of fear in her eyes now. 

Dean looks at Sam, and they nod at each other before moving towards the church. 

They open the doors and enter with Castiel. The first room of the church is empty of angels and much of anything else. Lines of light filter through holes in the wall as lightning strikes outside and thunder rolls. Wind whistles through the holes and the door shuts behind them. They hear only the sound of the wind, thunder, and their footsteps on the creaking wooden floor.

Sam searches to the right, Dean and Castiel walk to the left. There’s just enough light in the room that lets them make out the altar and crucifix on the wall in front of them. It’s hanging on by a thread with decaying walls on either side. Sam moves closer to the massive cross and notices another room in the church just behind the wall. 

He walks towards the opening slowly, listening for sounds of the angels or of Mary. He ducks under an exposed board and steps into the back room. The first face he sees is of Lucifer, chained to the wall. The next is Mary’s, chained on the opposite end of the room. 

“Dean, Cas, in here!” He rushes over to her, grabbing the shackle on her wrist. 

“Sam, what are you doing here?” she says, her head barely tilting up to look at him. “You shouldn’t be here.”

He lifts her head to look at him. “We’re going to get you out of here.”

Lucifer laughs from behind him, sending a chill down Sam’s spine. “Oh you are? Do you have any idea what these angels here are capable of? I mean, look. They tied little ole me up.”

Sam doesn’t acknowledge him. He takes out the small tool from his pocket and focuses on picking the lock on Mary’s shackles. 

“It doesn’t look like they had much trouble locking you up,” Castiel says to Lucifer. “I’m noting the lack of injuries on you that would denote a struggle.”

“Well hello Castiel. What a surprise. Did you get an extra dose of sass after dying? I could’ve sworn I drove a blade through your chest.”

“Shut up,” Dean says, and Sam hears something like a thump on Lucifer’s head. “How’re the locks, Sam?”

“I think… I’ve almost got it.” 

The shackle pops open and Mary’s arm falls onto her lap. Sam lifts her up, putting his arm under hers for support. She can barely stand, but the movement is getting blood flowing back into her legs and waking her up. They take a couple steps forward when two angels appear in the room. 

“Oh, you were so close,” Lucifer says. 

“Sam, get her out of here!” Dean lifts his angel blade and Castiel does the same.

Sam doesn’t want to leave them in here, but he doesn’t have a choice. Mary can’t fight, he can’t stay. 

They walk out of the room as fast as they can. As Sam exits the church, he can still hear Dean and Castiel fighting. 

He sees Eileen in the distance and hobbles toward her with Mary. When she sees only the two of them, she’s worried. He hands Mary off to Jack and signs quickly. “Be right back. Angels attacked.”

He turns around before the look on Eileen’s face can convince him to stay and wait. He’s almost back to the door when he hears a blood-chilling sound. 

“Sam!” Eileen calls out. 

Sam whips around and sees three angels descending on Eileen and Jack. He runs back, but not before the angels reach them. 

Jack lets go of Mary and tries to blast one of the angels away, but the angel is barely delayed by Jack’s weakened powers. Another comes up from behind and knocks Jack upside the head. The third angel grabs Eileen, holding her arms tight behind her back. There’s shock in her eyes at first and then anger. Sam feels a flash of dread run through his body from his head to his toes, then white hot anger. 

No one's taking this from him again. No one's taking her. 

The angel whips out a knife, taking it to Eileen’s neck, and Sam forgets everything else around him. He sprints towards the angel, an echo of someone else yelling “Sam” from behind, but Sam doesn’t stop running. He attacks swiftly, grabbing the angel’s hand holding the knife and sweeping its feet, knocking the angel off balance. The grip on the knife is loosened and it falls to the ground with a twist of its wrist. Eileen breaks free, falling to her knees, and she crawls away. Sam knocks the angel down and thrusts an angel blade into its chest. 

Sam rips the blade out, stands and wipes it on his jacket before sticking it back in his jacket. He finds Eileen, shakes the messy hairs that have fallen into his eyes out of the way, and walks over to her, putting his hands on her face. 

“Are you ok?” he says deliberately, one word at a time. They’re both scuffed up, small bruises and scratches on their faces and arms, but he’s not asking about that. 

Eileen smiles at him—actually smiles in the middle of this nightmare. “I am.”

“Are you sure about that?” A voice comes from behind them. 

They turn towards the voice. Lucifer is standing, unchained, in front of them. 

Sam finally looks around. Castiel and Dean already wasted the other angels, and Castiel has roused Jack. Dean is holding up Mary. Sam takes in the scene and smirks. 

“Yeah, I’m sure.” Sam looks over at Eileen, and she tosses him the angel-capturing device. He twists it open. 

“Well, Sam, I expected more from you than the Golden Egg,” Lucifer laughs. “That didn’t exactly work last time, did it?”

Sam doesn’t say anything except for mumbling a spell under his breath to activate the device.

Lucifer steps forward. “Don’t have anything to say? Huh, Sam? That’s all you’ve got?”

The device opens fully and a bright light spills out, crawling towards Lucifer. “I’d say see you in hell,” Sam says, “But... been there, done that. And I think this is going to be much worse.”

The light reaches Lucifer. When it touches his feet, dread covers his face and he tries to run, but the light laps at his ankles and latches onto the hem of his jeans. Slowly, the light crawls up his body, sucking the colors of his clothes into itself and turning Lucifer into a fading mirage. The last Sam, and any of them, see of Lucifer is the look of terror on his face before even that is sucked into the egg. 

The device closes with a hiss and a click. Sam stares at it, hardly believing that they finally caught Lucifer. 

“Guys,” Dean says, looking back at the flickering orange doorway, and around the empty landscape where any number of angels could pop up again, “We need to get back through that rift. Now.”

Castiel helps Dean with Mary, and Jack stays close to them as they walk back to their world. Sam finds Eileen and gets her through the rift. Sam stops at their exit, looks behind him, and almost leaves the device behind, throwing it into the hills of sand where it will be buried. But he can’t do that. He needs to have Lucifer close, to have the reassurance of his capture. He’ll never have to wonder when Lucifer might come back again.

Sam steps through the rift, and it closes behind him with the sound of wind being sucked into a hole. He looks up and sees the faces of his entire family in front of him. They’re a little beat up, everyone has a scratch or two, but they’re all ok. 

“Where’d that rage come from back there?” Dean says.

Sam looks only at Eileen. “I wasn’t letting Lucifer take my family away from me again.”

* * *

They give Mary time to recover before they celebrate. She hasn’t eaten in days, she’s in desperate need of a shower and a good night’s sleep, but she’s ok. She could’ve been a lot worse and that’s what the boys tell themselves when they look at her and see what she’s been through, that they got to her as best they knew how and they’re thankful she’s alive. 

In a few days, she’s walking around and acting like herself again. The only signs of the existence of the other world are the red marks on her wrist still healing. 

She thanks each and every one of them, Jack and Castiel and Eileen included, with a tight hug. The moment between Mary and Eileen is sweet; they both cry. Sam watches the exchange with more contentment in his heart than he ever remembers. He doesn’t have words to explain what it means to have his mom meet the woman he loves, and he does love Eileen. Undoubtedly and unreservedly, but he hasn’t told her yet.

Mary suggests they celebrate with a meal and receives resounding support from Dean and Jack.

The meal, of course, is takeout from a nearby homestyle restaurant. Jack gets to try fried chicken, and Eileen learns that Mary is, and never was, a cook. Sam keeps an eye on Eileen like he has been, watching for her to feel uncomfortable, but she never does. She’s smiling, her eyes are bright as she banters with everyone at the table. She fits right in like she’s been here all along. 

After dinner, when everyone is stuffed and conversing in the library with drinks, Sam and Eileen are in the kitchen cleaning up by themselves. 

“You seem to be holding up well,” Sam says as they’re drying plates. 

Eileen smiles. “It’s nice having everyone together. Your mother is amazing.”

Sam smiles to himself. “Yeah, she is.” He looks back at Eileen. “What changed?”

EIleen puts down her towel and leans against the counter. “Seeing you and your brother fight for your mom, and being a part of that, it helped me see where I fit in.”

Sam puts his own towel down, watching Eileen as his heart thumps out of his chest with the happiness of finally hearing her say that. “And where’s that?”

“Right here,” she nods at him, “Making sure you never put yourself in danger ever again like you did for me.” She’s only half kidding. 

Sam takes a step towards her. “I don’t know if I can promise that. You mean a lot to me, you know.”

“I know,” she says with that smile that lets him know she’s on top of everything. She takes a step, too. 

“I’ve been wanting to tell you…” Sam’s looking at the ground more than Eileen, trying to get the words out. 

“That you love me?”

His head snaps up. He isn’t sure how to respond to that and he feels heat rushing to his cheeks. “I- well, yeah.” When the words leave his lips, a weight is lifted off his chest, and he sees clearly the love in Eileen’s eyes. 

“I love you, too.” She does the signing for it at the same time, but she adds something else he isn’t familiar with.

He only looks confused and doesn’t respond in the way she wants, so Eileen puts her hands on his arms and tugs, pulling him down as she stands on her toes. He bends over awkwardly, still not understanding what she wants right up to the second she kisses him on the lips. 

He finally gets it after all this time and melts into her arms. 

His hands float up to her side and pull her closer, and all he knows in that moment is the feel of her lips against his and the solidity of their togetherness, the way he knows better than he’s ever known anything else that she has his heart, and he has hers. 

Eileen pulls back gently, breaking the kiss only to say, “That was the sign for kiss.”

Sam laughs, his forehead gently touching hers. “Yeah, I know that now.” 

With nothing left unsaid and all the time in world in front of them, he kisses her again, more confidently than before, forgetting the drinks and the conversations in the other room, the dripping plates waiting to be dried, and the horrors of the past. There’s only this moment, this second chance, and the miracles that brought him and Eileen together.


End file.
